I’ve been wanting to get into writing more fluff and stories for a very long time now but I keep putting it off for one reason or another. Likely out of fear that anything I write will be mediocre at best. I have written some stuff over the years but it was previously buried on the site and likely many of you never knew it existed.
Back on topic here. Not too long ago I came up with the idea to make my Chaos Marines warband, Disciples of Twilight, the ‘fallen’ of my loyalist chapter, Fate’s Angels. I set down a foundation but have not revisited it since. The concept of them turning renegade/traitor/what-have-you isn’t so simple. It’s not like one day they said, “Screw this, I want spikes!” There’s much more to it than that and it roots itself in a Fate’s Angels, the loyalist chapter of mine, ritual of sorts that some Marines venture on. I say ritual but really that’s not the right word however I can’t seem to find the word I want.
Anyway, so I wanted to cover how it all began and subsequently how it continues to this day. I’m going to break this down into small parts. I don’t want to overload people with a novel and it will also be far easier for me to work through this in chunks.
The Beginning (Part 1)
He laid there, his body broken and useless. He could not recall his name but he knew he had failed.
Three years ago he had set out on his fate quest. Amongst the Fate’s Angels chapter there are some Space Marines who feel this ‘calling’. At first it’s a subtle feeling, a tiny voice in the back of the Marine’s mind. Over time the feeling grows into a growling urge and the Space Marine finds himself compelled to leave the chapter and seek out the source.
The feeling which drew the Marine from the chapter will tug and pull, urging him one direction or another until at last the source of the call is found. Some brothers will spend years trying to locate the source, traveling all across the galaxy, and yet others will spend only days until they’ve reached the catalyst.
Most who set off in pursuit of their fate quest do not return. Those few who do return to the chapter are never the same person they were before departure. None have spoken of their fate quest. What each Marine saw or did upon the quest is known only to him.
Each returning brother must see the Chief Librarian Bercarius and High Chaplain Murdacus so that they can ensure that the taint of Chaos is not present and that the brother is fit for duty spiritually and mentally. Once they have been cleared for duty they return to the chapter as a Fate Lord, repainting their bone colored armor black.
Fate Lords live outside the typical chapter organization. They do not lead squads or wings (Fate’s Angels designation for companies). They sit upon the chapter council to aid in decisions regarding the chapter. Upon the battlefield they will move from squad to squad, company to company, to aid the battle where it is most needed. Command is not given to them; they simply lead by example with a combat presence that they never possessed before their fate quest.
That was the path taken by the fallen Space Marine who now lay shattered upon the hard earth, incapable of movement. His bone colored armor had lost all its integrity. Various seals were broken and the ceramite punched through in countless locations. The helmet lay a few feet from his head and the Marine’s breathing was shallow and labored yet he remained conscious. From what he could sense, his attacker was nowhere near; likely having assumed him dead.
Having his life seemed inconsequential in the face of his failure. His fate quest was at an end and having failed he knew he could not return to the chapter. He could accept with time that he failed and face his chapter but there was something inside him screaming that to return to his chapter would put them in jeopardy.
He could feel it, a dark presence that now seemed to reside within him. It was as though that feeling which compelled him on his fate quest had grown into a cancer pervading his body. As he lay there, his body knitting wounds and being restored from the brink of death, he knew his soul was lost.
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